Now, the Squire had produced a decidedly softening effect upon Evelyn, and if she had not had the misfortune to meet Lady Frances just as she left his room, much that followed need never taken place. But Lady Frances, who had never in the very least returned poor Frank Wynford’s affection for her, and who had no sentimental feelings with regard to Evelyn—Lady Frances, who simply regarded the little girl as a troublesome and very tiresome member of the family—was not disposed to be too soothing in her manner.
“Come here, my dear,” she said. “Come over here to the light. What have you got on?”
“My pretty red velvet dress,” replied Evelyn, tossing her head. “A suitable dress for an heiress like myself.”
“Come, this is quite beyond enduring. I want to speak to you, Evelyn. I have several things to say. Come into my boudoir.”
“But, if you please,” said Evelyn, “I have nothing to say to you, and I have a great deal to do in other directions. I am going back to Jasper; she wants me.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” began Lady Frances. “Come in here this moment, my dear.”
She took Evelyn’s hand and dragged the unwilling child into her private apartment. A bright fire burned in the grate. The room looked cozy, cheerful, orderly. Lady Frances was a woman of method. She had piles of papers lying neatly docketed on her writing-table; a sheaf of unanswered letters lay on one side. A Remington typewriter stood on a table near, and a slim-looking girl was standing by the typewriter.
“You will leave me for the present, Miss Andrews,” she said, turning to her amanuensis. “I shall require you here again in a quarter of an hour.”
Miss Andrews, with a low bow, instantly left the room.
“You see, Evelyn,” said her aunt, “you are taking up the time of a very busy woman. I manage the financial part of several charities—in short, we are very busy people in this house—and in the morning I, as a rule, allow no one to interrupt me. When the afternoon comes I am ready and willing to be agreeable to my guests.”